Sequestered with the Murderers by Dr. Tanner (books for 8th graders TXT) 📕

Something sinister was going on. I needed to find out if Lemmonee had any idea of what was happening. I could hear her chattering on the phone, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

After Lemmonee closed her flip-top cell phone, I asked, “Lemmonee, is there anything I can do to help.” Lemmonee knew who I was and my background.

“Yes, Vett. Come sit by me. I’ll be with you in a minute.” I immediately walked to the front of the bus and sat in the vacant seat next to her.

Lemmonee then stood by the driver’s seat and announced via the microphone, “Everyone, I’ve called the home office. Our president and the director of bus services will be here as soon as they can. You all know that the home office is in Attribute, just up the road; however, it may take them longer than it normally would to get here in this weather. The state police has been called and should be here any moment now. For now, we have to sequester ourselves on the bus until the state police arrive. I am so sorry about this. Most of you have traveled with us before and know this is not how our trips normally end. We normally get you to your drop off locations per the scheduled time frame. Please be patient and stay in your seats.”

“Joe, did you and Holt Junior go completely around the building?” Marjorie asked, quite irritated.

“Yes, we did. Completely around the building. It’s pretty dark and misty out there, so we didn’t walk too far from the building. I guess we will just have to be patient and wait for the police like Lemmonee said,” Joe replied.

“Did anyone ever see him go into the restroom?” a male voice from the back of the bus shouted out.

“I don’t remember seeing him,” a male voice answered. Another male voice said the same thing.

“Lemmonee, who’s going to drive us home?” Rebbie asked, clearly frustrated.

“Our director of bus services, Carter Richardson, who is a driver and knows the route, will most likely take over and drive you to your drop-off locations if we can’t find Duffy. We just have to wait on directions from the police. It shouldn’t take long now. If someone is waiting at your drop-off to pick you up, you may want to call them and tell them you will be delayed. I don’t know how long, but I would estimate at least two hours. I’ll have a better timeframe once I talk with the police. Uh, by now, I’m sure all of you know Vett Brayborn. She is a well-known investigator in Southwestern Virginia and has solved many mysteries and criminal cases. I’m going to get her to assist me. You all make your phone calls while I talk to Vett for a moment.”

During our tour, I had interactions with every one of the other twenty passengers, and most knew who I was. I was a little surprised and pleased to hear from this group that I was renowned in so many cities outside of my home city, Danville, Virginia. The passengers were from Danville, Martinsville, and Christiansburg areas. The first bus pickup location was in Danville, then in Martinsville, with Christiansburg being the last pickup location. Sixteen of the passengers were from Martinsville, Christiansburg, and the surrounding areas. The fifteen members of the Purple Calla Lily Investment Group (including Dimma and me) and four other passengers were from Danville and the surrounding area.

“Vett, this has never happened before. I can’t imagine where Duffy is,” Lemmonee said, clearly frightened, though she had spoken to the passengers via the bus microphone in a clear, professional, and take-charge manner.

“You’re doing a good job, Lemmonee. Just breathe. We will have some help soon.”

Just then, a state trooper patrol car pulled up beside the bus. The passengers saw the trooper, too, and I could hear grumblings of the “the state police is here.”

Lemmonee opened the bus door. She and I stepped outside to address the trooper. Now the weather had gotten worst, and the cold mist hit me in the face like a block of ice. Lemmonee explained to the trooper who we were and what was going on. He introduced himself as Trooper Malcolm Dryden.

“We need to keep the passengers sequestered. Someone will come onto the bus to talk to them shortly. More troopers are on the way. You can go back inside while I make a call,” explained Trooper Dryden.

In less than five minutes after Trooper Dryden’s arrival, five other trooper cars surrounded the bus. The misty weather made it impossible to see the cars completely, but the flashing lights were unmistakable. The troopers gathered around Trooper Dryden for about ten minutes, then abruptly dispersed. As far as I could see, they went in several directions around the rest area building to the south.

Trooper Dryden knocked on the door. Lemmonee quickly opened the door, and he walked in with a blank look on his face.

“Ma’am, I want . . .,” Trooper Dryden said in a low voice before Lemmonee interrupted him.

“Would you mind saying what you have to say via the microphone to all of us?” Lemmonee asked, handing him the microphone. As Lemmonee gave him the microphone, I got a good look at him. He was White, tall, six feet three inches, I guessed. He was very slender. His gray trooper uniform was too big for him. I thought his age to be in the early thirties. His face contained scaring, I assumed was from a bad case of acne. Overall, he had a professional look about him.

“Good evening. My name is Trooper Malcolm Dryden. My Sergeant will be here shortly to help you. Five troopers are currently searching the building and the grounds for your driver. I can’t tell you much more than that for now. I know you are all eager to get home. I do need for all of you to remain sequestered on the bus until further notice. My Sergeant will